


Monochrome/Greyscale

by ccauchemar



Category: Incredibles (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Accountability Arc, Advanced Babysitting, Babysitting, Bob is Straight, Bob is a Good Husband, Discussion of complicated feelings, Drabbles, Evelyn is a Lesbian, Evelyn is a MESS, Evelyn may be A Mess but she is a Hardcore Mess, F/F, F/M, Helen is Very Heart-Driven, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, No period-typical homophobia because fuck that, Non-Chronological, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Trans Female Character, Vignettes, consensual polyamory, god help me i cant write straight men, helen is bisexual, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-06-04 23:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccauchemar/pseuds/ccauchemar
Summary: “You tried to kill me.”The statement hangs, like a weight, over their heads.____A series of vignettes, post-movie, that is slowly growing a plot.





	1. prison garb

**Author's Note:**

> i'm all over the chemistry between helen and evelyn as much as the next person but i am extremely concerned with the possibility of cheating as a trope within this small fandom, both because I am uncomfortable with cheating, and bob/helen is one of the healthiest m/f ships i know. i want to attempt to write a story with nuance and maturity surrounding evelyn's actions within the movie's context, and how a relationship (of any kind!) between her and helen may occur post-movie.
> 
> this is not a priority project, but it will be written with love.

“You tried to kill me.”

The statement hangs, like a weight, over their heads.

Despite being in a prison visiting booth, Helen looks incredibly domestic, one leg crossed over the other in her crummy visitor’s chair, hair clean and shiny, phone held up to one ear as if chatting with a friend. It’s an unconscious position from years of home life, and it looks wildly out of place in a prison. Murmurs of other people on Helen’s side of the plexiglass barrier fill the uncomfortable silence.

Evelyn looks back from under her eyelashes, orange phone pressed to the side of her face, like a dark cloud with eyes. She’s exhausted, it’s obvious, even with her permanent eye bags, in the way she slouches forwards and leans on her hand. She laughs, once, a short thing. “I did, I did. I’ll admit that. I can’t deny it. I mean, look at me,” she says, gesturing at herself, at the room. “I tried to kill you.”

The way Helen replies is patient, but stern, like she’s talking to a child. “And you used me for your own personal gain.”

“I sure did,” Evelyn agrees, weary. The striped black and white prisoner’s garb is comical on her, she thinks to herself. She wishes she had proper, form-fitting pants.

“You know, I’ve been talking with Robert about what happened," Helen continues. "It’s taking us a long time to go back to normal. To recover, even. Can you imagine that? Kids, seeing their own parents do what we did? _Attacking_ them? Because of you?”

“Because of me and my technology.”

“Because of you and your technology,” Helen chimes, fixing her with a dark look. “You used me against myself _and_ my family to make people like me illegal. Again. And for what? Revenge?”

A silence grows, heavy. The question is rhetorical and Evelyn knows it. She looks at the other woman’s shoulder, the stitching on her shirt, to avoid looking at her face.

“How much longer are you going to be in here?” Helen asks, when no answer is forthcoming.

“I don’t know,” Evelyn laughs. “Depends on how fast Winston can get the bail.”

The nonchalance that comes with being wealthy unnerves Helen. “And what’s going to happen after you get out?”

“Guess I’ll be at large once again,” Evelyn says, just ambiguous enough to be serious, just ambiguous enough to be a joke.

Helen doesn’t like the ambiguity either. “I’ll talk to your brother, see what your options are. _I_ feel uncomfortable with you running around free after what happened.”

“You have every right to,” Evelyn says, shrugging, and cracks the first hint of a true smile Helen’s seen since they first met. “Does _Mr Incredible_ know you’re here?”

“ _Robert_ knows I’m here,” Helen corrects. “We agreed that I’d tell him about everything I do regarding you from now on. Neither of us are interested in a repeat performance.”

“That’s a good idea,” Evelyn admits.

Helen’s lips twitch with a small smile. “I have to go pick up the kids. I’ll be back in a few days. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“You’re coming _back_?”

“No promises,” Helen says, “But hey, you said it yourself - if things had gone differently, we could have been friends. I guess the optimist in me doesn't know when to quit.”

Evelyn chews on those sentences, mulling them over, after she's gone.


	2. reinvention (eight months later)

_[roughly eight months after the previous chapter]_

 

 _This is a bad idea,_ Evelyn thinks to herself, sprinting through the halls of the office building, weaving around people with speed. She isn't built for prolonged exercise, and after six flights of stairs, her lungs and limbs burn from the exertion.

“Out of my way!” she demands, shoving people aside, heedless of the staring and the shouts, and she grabs a chair by the arms, swinging it into the building’s glass windows so it shatters.

The helicopter she's following lurches around the side of the building. Perfect timing, perfect place, considering she didn't have a plan.

The flying vehicle careens close, way too close to the building, but _that's what she needs._ she runs, sprints for the broken window, and jumps - for one terrifying second she's not going to make it, _she's not going to make it,_ she's too high up and too far away-!

\- and she grabs onto a skid with both hands, clinging for dear life, heart pounding in her throat.

The helicopter sways. She swings ten stories in the air. In the rushing wind and the looming height she has to _move._

Hand over hand she hauls herself into the cramped vehicle. The criminal in the pilot’s seat doesn't notice her, so intent is he on getting away from the much more threatening Incredible family hot on his heels.

Evelyn reaches behind him and taps his left shoulder.

“Huh?” he says, turning the wrong way.

“Surprise,” Evelyn says, and he whips back around to meet a faceful of the Screenslaver’s goggles.

“Take us to the ground,” Evelyn commands the pilot, and as the flight levels out and begins to descend, Elastigirl herself lands in the other side of the cockpit, thrown like a javelin from her husband on the street below, and both women stare, not quite believing what they're seeing, at one another.

 

“V2.0,” Evelyn tells the adult Parrs, afterwards. She twirls the pair of gunmetal goggles in one hand. “I changed the code a little. If someone's morals go against a command, they won't do it. That guy in the helicopter just needed a little _convincing_ to turn around.”

Bob, arms crossed, speaks first. “You know how badly that could have gone if the police saw you with those. Why not scrap the whole thing?” he asks, unconvinced, but - despite himself - curious, after months of waiting, of patience, of his wife’s efforts.

“Hey, this is _my_ tech, I paid good time and money to get these parts machined,” Evelyn says, gripping her goggles protectively. “I can change it, I can keep the blueprints private, I can prevent them from being used by anyone else trying to out-drama what I did - I'm not _scrapping it all.”_

“Then why… Why did you chase after him?” Helen wonders, quietly.

Evelyn looks down at the goggles she’s holding, and the tiny camera embedded in her breast pocket, recording her actions, the proof, even now. She thinks about her sore muscles, and her always-tired body, and her need, her insatiable need for control. Her lips press into a thin line. “I'm not sure I really know how to show it, but... Someone I know has been teaching me to be a little less selfish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note: as these are mostly experimental pieces i'm not polishing them as much as i could be. i mean, two updates in 24 hours? that's hot off the press.
> 
> my tumblr sideblog is @evelesbiandeavor btw!!! yall are killing me with the hits kudos and comments holy SHIT i love you


	3. familial

_[a couple of days after chapter 1]_

“Ah-hah-h-I can’t _believe_ she did that!” Winston exclaims, jogging down the enormous spiral staircase to his meeting with Helen and Bob Parr, right on time, enthusiastic as ever. In bright sunlight, the building looks very different to the first time they met together, above a cityscape that glittered with lights. “Can you believe it? I still can't believe it. Thank you _so_ much for coming to meet me,” the younger Deavor says, vigorously shaking their hands in turn. “I couldn’t _possibly_ begin to express my apologies enough for everything that happened.”

“Oh, Winston, you did everything you could,” Helen says serenely, folding her arms. “None of us could have known. I'm surprised she managed to keep it a secret for so long.”

“Elastigirl, I have to apologise to you especially. If I'd known she was going to do that to you, I would _never_ have agreed to put you first…”

“Just call me Helen,” she says with a small smile.

“Helen, then,” Winston agrees, shaking her hand firmly, again, before he turns to her husband. “And to you, of course, Mr Incredible - Robert? - with everything on the ship…”

“What happened happened, and I'm glad she’s facing justice now,” Bob insists, waving away the apology. “We’re supers, it’s what we do.”

Winston beams, loud and proud for his childhood heroes. “You truly are _incredible,_ both of you. Would you happen to know where Frozone is? I’d hoped he could make the meeting!”

Bob shrugged. “Duty called, I’m afraid, you know how it is. If he could’ve made it I know he’d be here.”

“Oh, that’s such a shame. Please pass this along, then, if you can - I called you here today to tell you that Evelyn’s had her bail paid. In the best interest of the public, she'll be put on strict house arrest, with daily check ins by phone from the police force and weekly in-house therapy sessions. It’s the best I could get her, for now,” he adds, “And I had to do an _awful_ lot of negotiating to get the authorities to agree with that at all.”

Helen remembers the seed of good she’d seen in the other woman. “It’s more than enough,” she says. “It’s better than letting her rot in prison. She deserves a chance to make up for her behaviour.”

Bob nods, though he wishes the shadier Deavor would stay where she was. “Do what you have to, Mr Deavor. I want your sister to get the ending she deserves.”

“Oh, believe me, we all want that,” Winston sighs, eyebrows drawing close. “She _is_ my sister. Devtech simply isn’t the same without her, and, well.” He smiles at the married couple. “You know how far you’d go to look after your family.”


	4. advanced babysitting

_[some time soon after “familial”]_

 

When the doorbell rings, it’s scant seconds before Dash barrels through the house to answer it. “Karen’s here, Karen’s here!!” he shouts, wresting the heavy wooden door open and beaming.

“Who-ho-hoah, there, little guy! _Someone’s_ excited to see me!” Karen exclaims, as Dash hugs her around the waist, then runs back into the house, calling for his sister. _Viiiiiolet!!!_

His mother’s admonishments are distantly audible. “Dash, what did I tell you about opening the front door if you don’t know who’s there?”

“But we know it’s Karen! We’re expecting her!” he replies, indignantly, as his parents approach the door together.

“Hey, Karen, thank you so much for helping out again!” Helen says, hugging the lanky super on the way out of the house. “We’re going to a meeting with some other supers to discuss legislation. We’ll be back in a few hours. Dinner’s defrosted in the fridge. Keep an eye on Jack-Jack!”

“Sure thing, Mrs Parr!” Karen giggles. “Goodbye, Mr Parr!”

“Hold the fort, Karen!” Bob calls, and ducks into the car. “We’re counting on you!”

“Aye aye!” she replies, waving at the leaving vehicle.

When they’re gone, Karen eyes the children, hands on her hips. A devilish smirk creeps across her face.

Dash and Violet eye her with concern.

“What are you kids doing?!” Voyd exclaims, stepping forwards in a mockery of attack, arms thrown wide.

Dash shrieks with laughter and runs. Violet startles into invisibility, a floating pink turtleneck and pants. Karen opens portals in Dash’s way around the spacious house; he valiantly evades every obstacle, jumping, sprinting, tumbling, skidding, a bundle of energy put to the test.

“Sorry to scare you,” Karen apologises to Violet as she reappears, grumpy and frazzled. “You know I like to tire him out first thing off the bat.”

“Did you have to be so _sudden_ about it this time?” Violet grumbles. “And like _that?”_

Karen winces, vividly remembering the body language she’d used to corner them both, once, when she wasn’t in control of her limbs. “I’m so sorry, Vi, I didn’t mean to - I wasn’t thinking,” she babbles, clasping her hands. “I’m sorry.”

Dash, expecting a portal that never came, runs into the couch with an _oof._

“Hey, we talked about this,” Violet says. “I forgive you. It wasn’t _your_ fault.”

“I know,” Karen says. “But thanks for forgiving me, anyway. I wouldn’t want to scare my little friends again, huh? I am a _responsible_ super!” She points a thumb at her chest.

Dash rubs the pain out of his nose. “Hey, are you guys having _emotions?”_ he calls.

“Yes, we’re having _emotions,_ genius,” Violet says, with a cross of her arms and a roll of her eyes.

Dash zips over. “I wanna have emotions too! What are you talking about?”

“The time I attacked you on the ship,” Karen says.

“But you’ve been our babysitter for weeks, I thought we were over that!”

“We are. But I scared your sister.”

Violet interjects. “I wasn’t _scared-_ ”

Dash immediately knows that the two of them need distractions. “No more emotions let’s watch a movie!” he shouts, and grabs Karen by the arm, dragging her to the TV. Violet, interrupted, rolls her eyes again, and knows she has no choice but to follow.

As the night wears on, the tension proves to be short lived. The house is filled with laughter, and dinner, and conversation.

And then, finally, when their parents return in the wee hours of the night, the only sound is the quiet of peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> setting up is important. B)


	5. trapped

_[some time between the previous two chapters]_

 

This is HER technology.

The realisation hits Evelyn like a whip. Anger, irritation, and something wobbly she can’t pinpoint spread like fire in her chest. She scrabbles at the anklet with shaky hands. It does not budge.

The frustration swells. There’s nothing she can do, it’s modified - the usual weak spots are gone. They must have known. The irony isn't lost on her - her tech is the best on the market by a huge, undeniable margin.

 _She_ should know. She wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfect.

She spends nearly twenty minutes picking at the stupid anklet, trying to figure out how it works. She isn’t doing a very good job, and she finally collapses back on the couch, anger and irritation fading into pissed-off and tired. She’d waded through conversations with her well-meaning brother, acted politely enough to the police, and done her best to keep her mouth shut when they’d clipped the monitoring anklet on. The second she knew she was alone for good, she’d sat down and begun fiddling.

Oh, she knows she deserves it. She’s just happy she got off easy. Hah - the price one paid for a hefty crime. Literally! Devtech could handle the dent. She hadn’t killed anyone. Just a few good kicks in the face to an overly-trusting super and a lot of chaos sown worldwide. 

But now she's here, with an invisible chain clamped around her leg, and not out there, free to do as she pleased.

Frustration mounting, Evelyn decides that a drink is more appropriate in her hand than in a bottle. So she treats herself. Walks to the bar next to the kitchen, decants a shot of whiskey on the mahogany counter, knocks it back. The burn is nice, so she has another.

When the liquid hits her stomach and her torso starts to warm, she recognises the persistent third feeling that won’t leave her alone.

It’s helplessness.

And she HATES it.

With an angry yell, Evelyn hurls her empty shot glass across the house.

It lands politely on the couch.

Evelyn shouts wordlessly, tears at her hair, and storms around the kitchen. She moves into the living room, kicking at air and swearing at her impassive, spacious house.

She’s glad Helen Parr doesn’t trust her any more. She shouldn’t! They _ARE_ strangers. That trust was going to get her killed, and nearly did. That kind of trust does nothing but cause hurt, over and over again. A little caution, a little wariness, is _good_ for you.

Evelyn balls up her fists, sighs out her frustrations, and returns to the couch. The shot glass annoys her. She sets it on the coffee table.

Now, she reasons to herself, being trapped in your own home isn’t too bad of a punishment. The walls may be too familiar and she may not be allowed to leave but it could be worse, it could be worse.

It could be a lot better, though. She glares in the general vicinity of the ankle monitor, unwilling to move her head.

She’s debating the merits of scrounging around for metal scraps and paperclips when the doorbell chimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who showed up ;)
> 
> i'm posting this early cause i got called into work unexpectedly.


	6. wary is good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much traffic?? yall?? i'm blown away, i hope this fic continues to hold up <33
> 
> the chapters i have in reserve are starting to get... really long.

_[immediately follows the previous chapter]_

 

Helen chimes the doorbell.

Twenty-four seconds pass.

The front door swings open to reveal the unamused scowl of a slouching Evelyn. “What.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Helen. “Why hello there, grumpy,” she says, and rests her hand on her hip.

Evelyn sighs. “What do you want?”

“Winston rang me to say that you're officially out. I came as soon as he’d let me.”

Gears turn in Evelyn’s head. “You're… still trying to visit me?”

“Oh! I'm sorry, is there a doppelgänger on the loose?” Helen says wryly, making a show of looking around and then shrugging as if to say _Huh, I can't see any copycats!_

It's just silly enough that Evelyn doesn't snark back right off the bat. “No, not that I heard of. You're really trying to visit me?”

Helen crosses her arms. _“Visiting,_ present tense.I'm already here, aren't I?”

Evelyn snorts. “Stop trying to make me laugh,” she grumbles, but despite herself, the relief trickles in. “You do it too much.”

“If you insist,” Helen concedes. “What is this, the third time I've seen you? I think making you laugh is a good thing.”

“It's the fourth,” Evelyn corrects her, raising her eyebrows. “And if you're going to hang around and bother me, at least come inside. I feel weird standing at the door.”

Helen saunters on in. “Oh, so the Screenslaver’s inviting me into her _personal_ domain? Someone's confident.”

“I already _told_ you it's a persona. _I'm_ not the Screenslaver,” Evelyn corrects her again without humour, shutting the door and following her inside. “Not technically, anyway. And do you really think I'd be able to do anything to you, right now? Except maybe drink you into the ground.”

Helen appreciates the architecture with her hands in her pockets. “You never know. Remember what happened last time I assumed you were unarmed?”

“Yeah, but I had an agenda then.”

Helen turns back to face her. “Do you _really_ expect me to believe you don't have an agenda now?”

Evelyn winces. “Ouch. Harsh.”

“You don't want me to trust you, I won't trust you,” Helen says. “That's what you told me last week. I think I'm going to stick to that. But if I’ve learned anything about you, it’s that you’ll lose your mind without stimulation. So I’m going to keep visiting.”

“Good. How am I supposed to win your trust back?” Evelyn asks, straight to the point.

“Well, actions speak louder than words,” Helen suggests. “And honesty is always a good policy.” She’s glad Evelyn is being blunt. Bluntness is good, preferable even, to more vagueness. Especially now, from her.

Evelyn scans her eyes up and down Helen’s face, thinking, thinking hard. “You just walked into my house, let me lock the door behind you, turned your back on me, and waltzed into my living room. And you don't trust me? Actions speak louder than words...”

 _Crap._ Helen, called out, becomes uncomfortable under the other woman’s calculating look.

Evelyn drops cross-legged to her plush beige carpet. “I think _I_ got the one up on you this time.”

Helen bites her lip in thought, then laughs to herself. “Well… You _haven't_ attacked or ambushed me, even when you pointed out a very clear opportunity to.”

Evelyn blinks lazily.

“We could have been friends once, Evelyn,” Helen echoes, to the impassive civilian. She sits on the couch with her knees together, looking down on Evelyn, imploring. “I want to work with you here. Don't make my life hard.”

Evelyn makes a face. “I already have a therapist, courtesy of my brother. I don't need you on top of that too.”

“You think this is therapy? Oh I'll show you therapy,” Helen says, rolling up the sleeves of her black turtleneck in mock threat.

“No, no!” Evelyn laughs. This woman was _too_ good at lifting her spirits. It scared her. “No more therapy! Be normal for a minute, or ten. _Please._ What, what angle are you even shooting for, with this? Visiting me all the time?”

Helen gestures in the air. “I _care_ about you, Evelyn! I saved your life! You think I'd have chased you down the second you got out of prison if I didn't feel like I should… I don't know… be keeping an eye on you?”

Evelyn points. “Now _that_ sounds like you have an ulterior motive _and_ Stockholm’s.”

Helen huffs. “The _world's_ keeping an eye on you. I don't think you need a super on top of that.”

Evelyn smirks, leaning on her hand. “Eh, you _are_ my greatest adversary. We had a good rivalry going, didn't we?”

“If you're done pushing me away, I'd rather be your friend,” Helen says, coldly. She’s _not_ interested in pandering to Evelyn’s bullshit.

Evelyn drags her hand down her face, not even trying to be subtle with her disdain. The easy friendship they'd once had had been ripped to shreds and set on fire, and Evelyn wasn’t liking her chances. “What will it take to make you go away?”

Helen lifts up her hips and pulls a pack of cards from her back pocket. “You play at least one game with me, and I leave.”

 _One game._ Evelyn could do one game. “One game,” she agrees, climbing onto the couch. Helen looks up at her with a lopsided smile as she shuffles the deck.

As they chatter and start to play, the tension shifts. Hints of the long lost easy comfort settle in, one breath at a time, tentative. They make it through two games, in the end, with enough politeness and manners to make it bearable.

When Helen leaves for the day, Evelyn's heart is lighter; and despite herself, her sentence seems ever so slightly less daunting.


	7. what's in a name

“Hey, Karen,” Dash asks, pushing a sad piece of broccoli around his plate. “I’ve been thinking, and, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure,” Karen says through a mouthful of food, turning away from the TV. “What's on your mind?”

“Well,” Dash starts, chewing on his words rather than his dinner, “I know you're a girl, but sometimes when I see you from the side, or when you make faces, you kinda look like a boy. And I haven't really seen anyone else look like that before. Are you secretly a boy?”

Karen chokes on her vegetables and coughs violently.

“Dash, don't be rude!” Violet exclaims, with a spoonful of mushy green food held up to Jack-Jack's mouth.

“I'm just curious!” Dash says indignantly. “If I didn't know any better and I saw her on the street from far away I might be confused!”

Karen thumps her chest with a fist to clear her airway. “I'm a girl, Dash,” she snaps, and though her eyes are red and watery there’s an intensity to them the young children haven’t seen before. “Don't call me a boy.”

Dash shrinks in his chair. When he speaks, his voice is small. “Sorry… Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to be rude...”

Karen unconsciously wrings her hands as she thinks about her words. “I, I mean - no,” she stammers, licking her lips, “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just, sometimes people ask that, or they insist it, and I really, really, _really_ don't like that.”

Dash is clearly confused. “Why don't you like it?”

Karen takes a deep breath, gathers her words, and continues. “My, m-my parents thought I was a boy when I was younger. They tried to teach me boy things, a-and make me wear trousers and dress shoes and stuff, and I hated it. But one day a few years ago I realised oh, I, I think I'm a girl! I want to be a girl! And cause I have powers too, it was like, b-both these things at once, both these parts of myself people told me I had to keep hidden. And then, now, I can, like, I can be open about this! A-About me! Your mom, when I saw her out and about, _being herself,_ it really… it nailed home how badly I want to just… be me,” she sighs. “Both these different parts of me that are important, that people told me to _hide_ all the time. And now, I can…” She gestures at herself, and brushes her hair out of her face. “I can be me.”

“...How could they think you were a boy if you’re a girl?” Dash asks, on the verge of understanding.

Karen leans on her hand, and pokes at her food. “My parents thought they had a baby boy. And for a long time, I thought I was a boy too, ‘cause I didn’t know any better. I didn't always know I was a girl.”

Dash looks at baby Jack-Jack and frowns, thinking hard about this information. “Huh. I mean, I'm _pretty_ sure I'm a boy. I don't wanna be a girl,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

“And, and that's great!” Karen insists, nodding her head. “That confidence you feel knowing you're a boy is how _I_ feel knowing I'm a girl. But there’s nothing stopping you, and nothing wrong with changing your mind if you feel something different later on. Do you, like… get it?”

“I think so?” Dash says, so lost in thought he eats a piece of broccoli. “What name did your mom and dad give you?” Dash asks. “If they didn’t call you Karen?”

“I, I’d rather not say,” Karen says. “It’s not my _name_. It’s something they gave me, but it’s wrong for me, and it makes me feel bad.”

Dash hums in thought, satisfied with her answer, and consciously eats another piece of broccoli.

“So your parents got it wrong,” Violet starts, having listened intently, “But you’re being yourself _now._  How did they take the news?”

Karen stills, and slumps in her chair, like a hole was poked in the tub of her enthusiasm. “Not very well,” she mumbles. “They kicked me out when I told them.”

 _“What?_ That’s not fair!” Dash yells, standing up in his chair and slamming his hands on the table. “They kicked you out for being a girl? Move in here! I want a new sister!”

 _“Excuse me?”_ Violet exclaims, taking offence.

“A second sister! Karen’s our new sister now!” he shouts.

Karen’s cheeks are bright red, and she stutters. “Whuh, what? Me?”

“Yeah!” Dash continues. “You deserve to be you! We’re all supers, and you shouldn’t have to hide being a girl ‘cause someone doesn’t like it! And you’re here so often you might as well move in! Come live with us!!”

“I mean, Dash is right,” Violet says. “You’re here at _least_ twice a week. And most of those times you sleep over, too. Why not?”

Karen moves her open jaw as she tries to process this, absolutely flabbergastered. “You, I, that’s very generous, but I-I don’t know, I’d need to speak with your mom and dad first…”

“Yeah,” Violet says, nodding. “You’d have to ask them, and it'd be weird for a while, but it _would_ be nice having someone else to help look after Jack-Jack…”

“Waaaait," Dash says, struck by what he considered a fantastic idea, "What if _Jack-Jack’s_ a girl?”

“Jack-Jack’s a baby, Dash, he can’t tell us what he is now!” Violet says, exasperated.

“But if he changes his mind, then we gotta respect that!!”

Violet gestures with an open hand. “Then if he changes his mind he changes his mind!”

“I’M GONNA HAVE _THREE_ SISTERS!” Dash explodes.

Karen bursts into teary laughter, sobbing through her laughs, laughing through her tears. “I, I love you two so much,” she warbles. “I love you. Please, I, if your parents say yes, and if it can work out, I want to move in here. I wanna live with you guys. You’re like _family_ to me,” she says, and as her voice cracks, she dissolves into hard sobs.

Dash whoops aloud, and runs around the table to wrap Karen up in the biggest hug he can. She hugs him back, nose in his hair, crying freely. Violet quickly joins the embrace, conveying every ounce of love she can with her arms, as the two children encircle their big sister in all but name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please think about your comments before you post them! this is a no-transphobia zone.


	8. highpoxia [part i]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for drug use, specifically cannabis.
> 
> this chapter was getting extremely long so i cut it into smaller parts.

Five months and three days into Evelyn’s sentence, the almost-empty Parr residence gets an unexpected call.

“You've reached the Parr residence, Helen speaking,” Helen says, legs crossed one over the other, phone held up to her ear, as she sits on a bar stool.

“Hey - Hey. Helen. I need you to come over,” drawls the woman on the other end.

Helen sits up, alert at once. “What? Evelyn? I thought all lines out of your house are monitored?”

There's a long pause. “Yeah. But they can't keep me pinned down forever. Nobody can, not for long. I'm like… Evasive-En-Deavor. Hahah. I'm like a slippery, human, eel.”

The more Evelyn talks, the more Helen’s unease rises. The way she's acting is so odd - but distantly familiar, though she hasn't heard anyone talk like that in years. “Evelyn… are you alright?”

“Yeeeeah,” Evelyn says. “I'm fine. I’m just too high up, aaand, I can't get down.”

_ Too high up? _ Helen worries her lower lip between her teeth, and holds the phone’s mouthpiece close to her face. The likelihood of Evelyn going rock climbing or hiking is too slim. She has to confirm her suspicions. “Evelyn. Did you smoke cannabis? Are you  _ high? _ ”

Heavy breathing is the only sound on the other end of the line.

“Evelyn?”

“Yeah,” the inventor rasps, barely clinging to her train of thought, as it flashed, flickered, and wound back on itself like a high speed slideshow. “I'm way too high, I climbed up this tree and I can't get down. But it's a metaphorical tree. Nobody's here with me, but I can't control my thoughts any more. I can't tell Winston, he's not here, it's too much, he can't handle it, he doesn't know I found a way to break into the anklet they got, the one that they made from my tech. From  _ my _ technology, Helen! It’s so rude of them! Now I'm trapped here with nothing to do. But I found a way out of this stupid foot clamp. I’m here on my own and I had too much and got really high because I wanted to get high for the first time in everrrr, and I thought it would be okay. But it's not, and now I need, someone to, to talk to while it wears down a bit… Because I can't get the anklet back on while I'm not sober...”

Evelyn continues to ramble, and Helen exhales hard. The confirmation of her fears doesn't make them any less worrisome. Too many alarm bells are firing off in her mind. How did Evelyn get out? What was the monitoring situation like? How did she get cannabis? Was it laced? Was it safe? Just  _ how much _ had she smoked so that she was this distraught?

So lost in her thoughts, Helen doesn't immediately realise Evelyn has fallen silent. 

“He- Helen?”

Helen blinks herself back into the present. “Yeah? I'm still here.”

There's a long silence. Evelyn’s breathing is shaky, as if trying to speak and failing. Her whispered words, in the end, are so quiet that Helen nearly misses them.

“H-Help me. Please.”

Helen’s protective instincts kick into action. “I want you to stay right there. Okay? I'm coming over. Don't do anything, don't smoke any more.”

“I don't have any more,” Evelyn laments.

“Good. See you soon,” Helen says, and hangs up, sprinting for her bike in the garage.

“Don't make me regret asking,” Evelyn begs; but she's two seconds too late, and her only answer is a dial tone.


	9. highpoxia [part ii]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to keep it short but oops! 1800 words. i don't want to cut it down further because it'll ruin the flow. enjoy!

Helen chimes the doorbell.

It’s forty-five tense seconds before the locks are unlatched and the door is opened.

Evelyn slumps against the doorframe. She looks like garbage: eyebrows drawn, lips pressed tight, hands shaking. Her normally relaxed eyelids are even droopier than normal, and she’s joylessly chewing a slice of cheap white bread.

As hard as she tries, Helen can’t force down her smile.

“You shouldn’t see me like this,” Evelyn mutters around her mouthful of carbs, as if it’s the saddest, most joy-sucking snack she’s ever been forced to consume.

 _“You_ called _me,”_ Helen corrects her. “Seeing you like this is part of the bargain.”

There’s a pause where Evelyn processes the statement before she answers. “I didn’t have much choice for weed-saving candidate.”

“And what about your anklet?” Helen asks, looking down. Evelyn’s wearing pyjama pants, and her feet are bare.

Evelyn ushers Helen into the house while rambling. “These idiots are lucky they picked the version I designed in a paranoid craze. Cause hey, you never know. Sometimes stuff you do gets used against you. They picked the version with the most annoying but most satisfying disable method. I successfully broke in with three paperclips, a bottle opener, and a piece of string by hijacking weak spots in the casing, so it's still active, but it cost me three hours and what feels like a sprain to get it off my foot. I left it on the table because I was mad. The alarm won't die for a while, but I'm too high to put it back on…”

Evelyn shakes. She made the mistake of letting her mind wander. She doesn't want to think about being high. She's bombarded with images of simple lever and circuit diagrams and third-grade maths textbooks and _toy cars, why the fuck am I thinking about toy cars, and clowns, clown noses, sparkles, glitter, screens, pixels, pet cat, loud turbine noises, clouds, cloud gazing, turtles, I can't orient myself I'm like a kayak in whitewater like that one time with Win when I got tossed around in circles, oh remember the circuits? Don’t forget about the circuits, the circuits, the anklet, the screens screens so many screens YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL THIS IS YOUR FAULT THIS IS YOUR REWARD_

“Get me _out of here,”_ Evelyn growls through the salad of intrusive thoughts and drug-induced nonsense, clinging to the back of a dining chair so hard her knuckles turn white.

“Here,” Helen says, from her left.

Evelyn cracks open one eye. Helen is holding out a folded pair of pants and slip-on shoes she’d picked from Evelyn’s wardrobe.

“What,” Evelyn says tonelessly.

“We’re going outside. Your shirt is okay but you need pants and shoes. I won't look, but you should change.”

Evelyn snatches the clothes and stalks around the corner. It's a slow two minutes before she returns, dressed more appropriately for an outing.

Helen nods, and guides her to the bike. To her surprise, Evelyn doesn’t hesitate on the threshold. _But,_ she remembers, _why would she? She_ **_wanted_ ** _to leave._ And the gutted, still-active anklet is on the kitchen table. Nothing out of the ordinary to anyone watching.

In the end, Helen’s worries about Evelyn falling off are ill-founded. As she kickstarts the bike and revs the engine, Helen can feel the vibration of Evelyn’s voice in her shoulder.

“If you don't fall off I won't fall off,” Evelyn says, arms tight around her waist and face pressed into her neck. She clings with startling ferocity, even though she trembles and her breaths shudder.

“Alright,” Helen says, despite her doubts. And with roar of the engine they’re off, gunning down the road.

For the first three agonising minutes, Evelyn doesn’t open her eyes. For the next eight she decides that being able to adjust with the turns of the bike outweighs the motion sickness and increased intrusive thoughts that come with keeping her eyes shut.

Time is meaningless. Her mind is a whirlwind.

The only constants are the bike, the other woman’s body, and her perfume.

It’s _really_ nice perfume.

Sixteen minutes into Helen’s careful driving along the freeway, Evelyn inhales against the nape of Helen’s neck.

“Hey,” Helen says. She can feel the tip of Evelyn’s nose digging into her skin. “What are you doing?”

Evelyn inhales one more time, as deep as she can, filling her senses with one stable thing, one stable smell, before she replies. “I need grounding,” she croaks.

She sounds so pitiful that Helen’s heart twists. “It’s okay, I've got you,” she murmurs, leaning her head into Evelyn’s hair as best she could while driving. Evelyn moves one arm up until she's gripping Helen’s shoulder like a human seatbelt, digging her fingertips into muscle.

Despite being in the literal clutches of her enemy, Helen Parr is not afraid. “You’ve got a strong grip,” she remarks as she turns off the freeway.

Evelyn says nothing, only continues her anchoring hold.

The wind whips around them both. The road winds through a forest.

Evelyn tilts her head back and lets the passing air rush over her face, trusting Helen to handle the turns of the bike. Not like she had a choice in the matter of trust, though. Bright sunlight filters through the canopy, painting a patchwork of bright green and golden yellow that flash over her eyes.

So familiar.

In the sound, and the scents, and the flashing, she allows her mind to drift.

She can hear birds, and wind, and the bike. She can feel Helen’s ribcage expand and contract as she breathes. She starts to wonder how her powers allow her skeleton to grow, shrink, and flex with willpower alone. Her bones _feel_ perfectly solid and civilian.

How interesting, Evelyn thinks, as the sunlight flashes and flashes by, and she drifts, and she drifts.

All too soon, the bike slows to a stop. “We’re here,” Helen announces, and kills the engine.

Evelyn opens her eyes and looks around. The slideshow of life appears to be a big expanse of green grass and log furniture and trees, and oh, it’s a park, they’re at a park. “Where?” she says anyway, and disengages her arms. They ache. She feels it in her elbows, and her shoulders, and in her muscles, and then she can feel her pulse, and she decides that following sensations in order of origin isn’t going to do her any help, so she focuses on the grass.

Such lovely green grass.

“Just a quiet park. I thought it would be good to bring you somewhere in nature,” Helen says with amusement, watching Evelyn stare at the oval as if she’s figuring out the secret of life.

“Yeah,” Evelyn says, thinking about how many little bugs would be hiding in the grass, and how much Winston would love to collect them with her.

The two women wander to a sunlit patch at the edge of the oval. Evelyn flops on her back, eyes shut, and sighs in the sun’s warmth.

Evelyn has an idea. She has several, actually, and in chasing them all like a fox after rabbits she forgets what the original idea was. It irritates her, but there’s nothing she can do. She imagines a hungry little fox flatten its ears and jump into a bush to hide.

“There’s something bright and fantastic about it, when you realise everything comes from a single point,” Evelyn thinks aloud. “All my best ideas start from nothing, they’re just seeds, and then they start to grow.” She pulls some grass out of the oval and picks at it. “And then I can mould them into what I need them to be.”

“That sounds nice,” Helen says, from somewhere to her right. “Watching things grow.”

“No, I _make_ them grow,” Evelyn corrects her, gesturing with her hands straight up in the air, and imagining she can see them. _“I’m_ the one who decides the growing.”

Helen hums, thinking about her kids. “I suppose I’m more used to watching and guiding. And using force only when necessary.”

Evelyn cracks her eyes open, and looks at Helen. There’s a break in the drug-induced haze, and she suddenly feels very, very lucid, drinking in the world before her. The green grass, the distant trees, the bright red halo of Helen’s hair lit from behind by the sun as she lies on her side with her cheek propped up on her left hand, and the private smile she couldn't see before.

Evelyn’s brain short circuits.

Helen chews her lip in amusement. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone under the influence of marijuana,” she says. “It’s kind of funny.”

“What - what’s _funny_ about it,” Evelyn says, feeling like there was another conversation topic she’d forgotten about. It irritates her.

“Just… you,” Helen says, vaguely.

“That’s not an answer,” Evelyn complains.

Helen sighs, and changes the topic. “What are we gonna do about your house arrest, Evelyn? It’s not going to go away just because you found a way to sneak out.”

Evelyn _tsks_ and rubs her eyes. “I don’t want to put that _thing_ back on. I’m tired of it, Helen. I’m _sick_ of being locked inside with nothing to do and nowhere to go. I’m being watched all the damn time, my creative outlets are _severely_ limited, and I…” her train of thought stalls, and she huffs. “I’m spending _hours_ at a time watching walls and the ceiling. Do you know how _bad_ it is to be locked up like that? I've mastered the art of making time pass. I’m being starved, intellectually and emotionally, there’s nothing left to eat. And I could _really_ go for a burger right now.”

Helen frowns. “Do you not have food at home?”

“Yeah, I have food,” Evelyn says. “Weekly deliveries, courtesy of Winston. But they suck.”

 _That explains the bread,_ Helen thought. “Then how come you have whiskey?”

“Secret stash,” Evelyn mumbles.

“What?” Helen asks.

“I said I have a secret stash. I’m not an alcoholic, but I don’t want to talk about it,” Evelyn says, rolling on her side to face Helen, and picking at the grass. “I just want to lie here and eat a burger. And maybe some hot chips. And a nice steak. With baked potatoes, the crispy ones with olive oil and sour cream and chives. And some goddamn seafood. Like, a whole platter.” Evelyn sighed. “I know I deserve this, but I can’t wait for it to be over. _Literally_ can’t wait. I’m losing it.”

Helen puts a hand on her arm. “Give it _time,_ Evelyn. You were patient enough to plan the whole Screenslaver thing, you can wait a couple more months to get out of this.”

Evelyn frowns. “You sound so nonchalant about it.”

“I talk to Bob about my problems,” Helen says simply.

Bitter jealousy twists in Evelyn’s stomach. She ignores it. “You really trust him.”

“I do,” Helen says, and the conversation stops there.

Evelyn finds that she’d much rather focus on making the present bearable, and thanks Weed for allowing her to so quickly move on from her temporary discomfort.

“Do you still have that card deck?’ Evelyn asks after a minute filled with birdsong and the whispers of trees.

Helen laughs. “Not today. Do you… want to tell me what it’s like being high, instead? If you think it'll help.”

Finally. Something she _can_ do. Evelyn shuffles in closer, curled on her side. “Yeah,” she says, analysing the pattern in her slowly-sobering thoughts, piece by piece in a flickering puzzle, preparing to lay them out in an orderly fashion. “I think I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this two-part chapter was inspired by the following post: 
> 
> [[ evelesbiandeavor. tumblr. com/post/175505821791 ]]


	10. valiant endeavour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posted part two of highpoxia in the middle of the night yesterday, backtrack if you think you missed helen and evelyn on the bike.

_[one year after Evelyn was bailed out of prison]_

 

Evelyn Deavor, prototype boots planted firmly on the ground, snarls at the rogue super with gravity powers who’d flung Elastigirl and Dash so hard at a metal shipping crate that it caved inwards like a cardboard box. 

How dare he. _How dare he_ attack the ones she loves.

“If you take one more step forwards I’ll kill you,” Evelyn threatens, brandishing two electrically charged push daggers with shaking hands.

“You? You’ll kill _me?”_ Vortex says, hand pressed to his chest, and laughs in her face. “Aren’t you that scrawny shit who tried to force us all underground? And these supers are _working with you_ now? I’ll kill you _all_ for what you did to us!”

Dash regains consciousness faster than his mother. The first thing he sees is the ex-Screenslaver’s back, turned to them both. There's a big battery inside the backpack she's wearing, and thick wires run along the outside of her improvised suit's limbs to power taser gloves and motorised skates. A fragile civilian standing her ground, protecting him and his concussed mother against the enemy, wielding prototype technology as effective as toys against a hellbent super who could crush her with a passing thought.

“Then I had good reason to try,” Evelyn says, killing time, voice low to hide her fear. “And I’d do it again to stop people like you.”

“You and what army?” Vortex leers.

“The one I was distracting you from,” Evelyn announces, eyes sliding to the left, and Vortex doesn’t even have time to turn.

With a devastating crack, Mr Incredible’s fist meets the side of Vortex’s head, and the man goes down like a sack of bricks, knocked out stone cold on the concrete wharf.

 


	11. evening outlet

_[in the evening, after the events of highpoxia]_

 

“Bob, honey? We need to talk about something serious.”

Robert Parr, sitting in bed with a book, turns to his wife as she walks out of the ensuite. “Yeah, yeah? What’s wrong?”

Helen slumps onto her side of the bed, so exhausted her body loses its form a bit. “Evelyn’s found a way to break out of her house arrest anklet and she's been sneaking out between police check ups and therapy,” she explains. “She got high on cannabis earlier today, higher than she could handle, and called me for help.”

“What?” Bob puts down his book. “How’d she get out?”

“Turns out she was commissioned to design security technology once, and the prison used something like hers cause it was the best. She took it off without deactivating it, then she snuck out. I think she needs to feel like she’s in control of something. Of anything! She’s spent so much time not being in control, that when she found avenues to exert it, she went all-out.”

“Tell me about it,” Bob mutters. “Give an inch, take a mile.”

“Right,” Helen says, crossing her legs as she lay on the bed, holding her elbow and gesturing with her other hand. “But the thing is, she's still following these rules they set for her. She could have snuck out to Devtech, or done anything, really. But she didn't. She just… got recreational drugs, came back, and got high alone. But it backfired, so she needed someone to help her til she was sober enough to put the anklet back on.” She rests her head against the headboard. “I'm tired, Bob. Sometimes I don't _want_ to keep visiting her. She's changing so much, I can _feel_ it, but sometimes it's not worth the memories, you know?”

“Then don't,” Bob says, putting a hand over hers. “You don't have to. You have every reason to stop, and…” He shakes his head from side to side a bit. “Sometimes, I'd prefer if you did stop.”

Helen rubs her forehead. “I'm not pushing myself more than I can handle. It's like, I'm juggling these two parts of my life, I'm just trying to _balance_ them.” She sighs, and leans against her husband. “Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s even worth it, with her.”

“Helen,” Bob says. “I'm going to have your back no matter what you choose to do with your life. But seeing you go out to visit _her_ every couple of weeks makes me _very nervous.”_

“Hey, worry all you want, I'm doing hero work,” Helen teases, sticking a thumb at her chest. But she chuckles, and lowers her voice, being serious. “I know you worry, honey. That's why I promised to keep talking to you. No secrets. She and I just had this… connection, you know? Back before everything went to crap. I know she's capable of so much. I can feel it in my gut.”

Bob looks her in the eye, deadly serious. “And you _promise_ me you'll talk if you're stressed, right?”

Helen smiles humorously. “What do you think this conversation is about, Bob? My _lack_ of stress?”

“Er, mm, you're right, yes,” Bob mutters, looking away. “But you know what I mean! I just - I can’t stand - I, I’ve...” He sighs. “I’ve had too many scares. I trust you, but there are a million ways this could go wrong.” He grinds his teeth together. “Especially because it’s _her.”_

“Hey,” Helen says, stretching her arm just enough to cup his cheek. “I’m a superhero. I can handle a little stress. I just can’t put into words how much I’m grateful you’re cheering me on from the stands.”

Bob smiles tenderly despite his creased brow, and leans down to kiss his wife. “I love you, honey. So much.”

“I love you too, honey,” Helen says. “For as long as we both shall live.”

“For as long as we both shall live,” Bob echoes, thumbing the dimple in her cheek.


	12. trust fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo! sorry about the week of no updates. got a lot on my plate, and i'm trying to switch gears back to my overwatch fic - monogrey is actually a warmup for raptor's grip!
> 
> i can't thank y'all enough for your continued love and support, i just broke 3,000 hits and i'm in awe. <3

_ [the day after reinvention] _

“So you wanted to show us the goggles,” Mr Incredible says, arms crossed, standing in a pile of cable spaghetti, beside his wife in Evelyn’s lab at Devtech.

“Yes,” Evelyn says. She swivels around in a wheely chair, and lifts a pair of gunmetal hypno-goggles off her eyes, resting them in her hair. Their bright turquoise screens shut off and fade to tinted glass. “I’ve just finished testing this pair, as a matter of fact. They’re good to go.”

“Define ‘good to go’,” Elastigirl says, crossing her arms, casual and collected.

“Fully working technology, code out of beta, with a proper case - like the old ones. But with racing stripes,” Evelyn says, pointing out a thin line of metallic white paint along the arms. “I like to work fast. These work faster.”

“Faster than before?” Mr Incredible says, open to the information, after the proof, but still wary.

“Works faster, works  _ differently,” _ Evelyn insists. She takes the goggles off her head, and looks them over for flaws that don’t exist, pointing at the inside of the dark glass screens. “As I told you after the helicopter chase, it’s more of a very strong suggestion, now, than an override of willpower. Of course, it may  _ appear  _ to work the same as before, but that only means that the person under control either  _ wants  _ to follow the command because it leads to a desirable outcome, or has no immediate objections to it.

“As a form of reparations for the damage I caused you two, I’m allowing you the opportunity to test them. On me.” Evelyn replaces the goggles over her eyes, though the screens do not activate, and hands Elastigirl a small rectangular remote with a three-inch antenna. “This is a prototype for the controls, so it’s pretty barebones, but it works. I think  _ you  _ deserve the honor most, after all.”

Though her words are sincere, Evelyn’s cavalier attitude is not lost on the woman she’d tried to kill. “You’re offering  _ me  _ this?” Elastigirl says. “I thought losing control of anything was the last thing on your list of priorities?”

“I lost,” Evelyn says, shrugging, hiding her tarnished pride with her excellent acting. “I lost control. The plan went bust. There’s nothing left for me to do but to pick it back up again and find a way forward.”

Elastigirl turns the remote around, looking at it. “How do I turn it on?”

“Black button on the front,” Evelyn says, standing up for the demonstration, and to hide the tremor in her legs.

The last clear thing she sees is Elastigirl pressing the button. Then the teal-black-white screens burst to life, and her thoughts scramble.

Elastigirl watches Evelyn’s twitching fingertips. There’s something creepy about being on the other side of the glasses; the quietness in Evelyn’s form, as if she’d been asked to meditate standing up. About knowing that she herself was once completely at Evelyn’s mercy in this way, to do every evil deed the other woman wanted, without thinking, without remorse.

“Slap yourself,” Elastigirl commands.

“What? Honey,” Mr Incredible starts, but he’s cut off by the echoing slap of Evelyn’s palm connecting with her own cheek. He stares in disbelief.

Elastigirl’s face is stormy. “Slap yourself again.”

Evelyn slaps herself, hard, and it takes her a second to straighten up.

“Slap me.”

Evelyn’s hand twitches, but does not move from where it hangs at her side.

Elastigirl shares a glance with her husband. “I said slap me,” she repeats, to Evelyn.

The hypnotised woman does not comply.

“Interesting,” Elastigirl says, taking a minute to pore over the controller. “I don’t think she was joking.”

Mr Incredible thinks the situation is really, really weird. But he knows not to miss an opportunity when it greets him. “...Punch me?” he ventures.

Evelyn raises one fist, but her arm trembles, and she lowers it.

The enormous super laughs, booming and mirthful. “I see! That’s  _ very  _ interesting.”

“Hang on,” Elastigirl says. “Bob, look at this.” She points out a tiny switch, hidden in the gap where the casing connected. “What's this?”

Mr Incredible frowns. “I don’t know, but I don’t like the look of it.”

Elastigirl looks up at Evelyn as she pushes the switch.

Evelyn’s body seizes up, head jerking to the right, a hiss choked up in her throat. And then she becomes still, horribly, awfully still, face blank and arms at her sides. The green of the goggles is stronger, brighter, the tiny lights working overtime.

“Oh my god,” Mr Incredible croaks out. “Is that - She kept it in?”

Elastigirl’s heart thumps like a rabbit’s. “Of course she would, she wouldn’t get rid of something like that - you know what, let’s just ask her. Evelyn?” she calls.

Evelyn turns her head like a robot. “Yes?”

Elastigirl steels herself. “Tell me, truthfully, why you kept the old hypnosis technology in this version of the goggles.”

“It’s a failsafe,” Evelyn drones. Her tone is flat, but not lifeless, as if she’s reading back a report. “If I’m up against a rogue super, or someone who poses a serious threat, but something’s stopping me from taking them down with the V2 technology, I need a way to protect myself and finish the job.”

The strength flees from Mr Incredible’s legs. He steadies himself on a work table. “She’s  _ serious?” _

Elastigirl presses on. “And would you use it on anyone other than an enemy?”

“I tested it on myself,” Evelyn continues. “Lots of audio recordings to serve as commands. Besides, I already demonstrated my share of messing with allies. I’m not interested in a repeat performance after getting so thoroughly shut down.”

“Are you being honest?” Elastigirl asks, believing it, desperately wanting to believe it.

“Yes,” Evelyn says.

The room is silent as the realisation that she's serious settles in for good.

Elastigirl steps forwards and leans on Evelyn’s work desk. “Is it possible to get rid of this old technology?” she ventures. “Permanently?”

Evelyn swivels back around to her computer system and its large, connected array of curved screens mounted on the wall. “It is,” she says, clicking through her own files.

With a start, Elastigirl realises that their positions have been reversed. Her, leaning on the table, and Evelyn, sitting at the desk. The conversation they’d had. Evelyn’s habit of leaving crumbs and clues, but rarely the truth, not when it came to herself.

_ Maybe he... wanted to be caught. _

_ You  _ **_are_ ** _ good. _

Elastigirl frowns at the remote, considering, thinking.

And flicks the switch off.

As the V2 tech takes over, some of the tension drains out of Evelyn’s shoulders, and her breathing deepens.

“Did, did you just turn that off?” Mr Incredible asks in concern. “Are you sure she's still going to do what we need?”

Elastigirl silences her husband with a glare.  _ Trust me. _

“Evelyn,” Elastigirl starts. She feels her heart pound in her throat when she knows Evelyn is listening. “I want you to find the code for your old hypnosis technology that you’ve hidden in the files of the new one.”

Evelyn hums in acknowledgement, and pulls up folders on her computer’s black-and-green screen. It’s a maze, a mess, and though Elastigirl quickly gets lost, Evelyn clearly knows what she’s doing. Soon there is a neat array of sub folders and open code files arranged on the chunky computer screens.

“Delete all the old code,” Elastigirl commands, making sure the switch is still thumbed off, that the V1 tech isn’t affecting her.

Without hesitation, Evelyn methodically clicks through the folders, deleting, deleting, deleting. 

“She’s really getting rid of it,” Mr Incredible murmurs.

“Maybe she needed the push in the right direction,” Elastigirl says, watching Evelyn delete all knowledge of the powerful technology she’d once used as a weapon. She knew, she'd known there was good in Evelyn, could feel it from the start.

And now there was proof. 

_ Maybe she wanted to be caught. _

Warm hope flickers in the pit of her stomach.


	13. three ways cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience! i think i burned out after writing about 13k over the course of a month. good news is that i'm back, baby, and i'm ready to supervillain.
> 
> there is **no** dubcon or noncon in this fic.

It was tragic, really. How quickly she’d had to pull the rug out. How immediately Elastigirl is taken under by her perfect technology - Despite the ability to stretch, her eyes are as average as any Jane Doe.

As Evelyn exhales, she’s thankful she doesn’t have to pretend to be nice any more. Of course, she _was_ being genuine… It was impossible to _not_ like Elastigirl. She had a warm personality, and a crooked smile, and a delightful lisp. Being genuine in her camaraderie was easy, flawless, natural.

...But now she can’t fall back on that easy friendship.

In its own way, Evelyn thinks, that’s okay. She’s _been_ the bad guy all along. Behind the scenes. The Screenslaver was fun. Elastigirl was brilliant. The plan, the hints, some subtle, some unintentional, all taken and combed through and deduced by the woman who’d slotted into the role of being her enemy by matter of unlucky circumstance, first, then rapid plotting, later.

Evelyn looks at Elastigirl. It’s sick, how empty and still the super’s face is, how the warmth in her frame is gone. Like someone turned off her breathing. A stiffness in her shoulders, stark contrast to the gentle fluidity of her natural movement. Elastigirl looks _brittle_.

Winston couldn’t, wouldn’t talk to her again after this. Her reputation is as good as ruined. Short of Elastigirl dying outright, the second the goggles come off, Evelyn’s done for. Everything she’s worked for, DevTech, worldwide, gone. Absolutely no doubt about it.

Evelyn Deavor has nothing to lose.

...And in that realisation, Evelyn, the villain, finds freedom.

She has a _fantastic_ idea.

“Follow me to the server room downstairs,” she commands, and tries to take pride in her own villainy, without the distance of her persona.

When they arrive, she all but laughs at her own dramatic genius. Vaulted ceilings, aesthetic grace, blocks and blocks of high-powered server arrays with tiny lights and black cables snaking on the floor. Her breath fogs the air in front of her. Elastigirl follows, mute, three steps behind.

Evelyn needed somewhere to talk with her quarry privately. Somewhere she doesn’t have to fear backlash from the double-crossed superhero. And she found it, in the coldest part of the DevTech building. It’s _perfect_ for what she needs.

But oh, it could be colder.

Ignoring the ache in her fingers, Evelyn flicks the temperature as low as it will go, and congratulates herself on remembering to bring a change of clothes to the party.


	14. a house should feel like a home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yall turns out i have... lots of notes... in reserve... that i forgot about... <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

When Helen pulls Karen aside after dinner with a simple “Hey, Karen, can we talk?”, Karen doesn’t quite know what to think.

Just beyond the light of the dining room, where Dash is attacking a steak and Bob tries to help Jack-Jack hold a plastic spoon, Karen brushes her hair out of her face. “Yeah, Mrs Parr, what do you wanna talk about?”

“Dash told me your living situation is… difficult. I wanted to ask how you’re doing.”

“D-Did he?” Karen stutters, pulling her shoulders up to her ears. “Oh it's not a problem, I mean, I’m fine with the way it’s going, it could be a lot worse but it could be a lot better too…”

“Hey, it’s okay, slow down,” Helen says, putting her hands on Karen’s shoulders. The young woman tenses up. “One word at a time.”

Karen grimaces, pulls a face, relents. She sighs, and her shoulders drop. “It’s real hard living on my own. I’m always struggling for money. Sometimes I… don’t even…”

She pauses as Dash yells, and Jack-Jack shrieks. Bob’s measured voice drifts into the hall, defusing the two.

Helen is patient.

Karen continues. “Sometimes I don’t even have money for food. I live in a cave. I don’t, _live,_ there, I just go back, and sleep, and wake up, and go to school, and work, and repeat the process. Keeping my job is a nightmare, ‘cause the boss just doesn’t care. He could get rid of me in a heartbeat. I’m underpaid, and overworked.”

Helen reaches a hand, hesitates, and places it on Karen’s shoulder. Reassuring. Comforting. “Is that why you come here so often?”

Karen nods. “Yeah,” she admits, and her voice cracks. She sniffs. “Your cooking is so _nice.”_

Helen takes a chance and hugs her. “We want to look after you, Karen,” she says. She thinks hard about her next words. “Would it be convenient to move in here?”

Karen’s heart stops. “Buh,” she says, “but but but what about the kids? What about my lease?”

“I wouldn’t rush in right away," Helen says. "At the very least, we need to figure out if your tenancy can be shortened or if we should wait the rest of the time. You'd need to work out transport routes, and update your address - we're seasoned experts, won't be a problem to help you with. Moving in with anyone would be a huge change.”

“My lease ends in two months,” Karen giggles, fighting hysteria. “I don’t care what I’d have to do to survive it.”

Helen can’t hold back her grin. “Lemme talk to Bob about it. Dash and Vi want you here, I don’t mind as long as the transition’s smooth, I’m sure he won’t need much convincing. Let’s talk after dinner, okay? Big decisions need big meetings.”

“Yes yes yes yes yes,” Karen rambles, and squeaks as quietly as she can to vent her excitement. “Yes! I love you! Yes!”

Helen catches Karen as she leaps onto her, hugging as tight and strong as they day they’d met. “We love you too, honey,” she says gently, and hugs her back just as tight. “We love you too.”


End file.
